


Like Mother, Like Son

by SetsunaDrive



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetsunaDrive/pseuds/SetsunaDrive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The downside to leading Rikiga's kind of life was that all its comforts came covered with a layer of grime, thick and unpleasant, which clung to him like glue and seemed to contaminate everything around him. </p><p>Everything except Shion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Mother, Like Son

Meeting Shion hadn't gone smoothly. On the contrary, it had began awkwardly before very suddenly turning violent, eventually ending in Rikiga apologising on his knees and promising he would repent and make up for his mistakes.

Quite similar to the way his life had gone in general really. The biggest difference being that this time, it wasn't a mysterious all powerful entity located vaguely in the sky above that he was begging the forgiveness of. No, this time the angel was right in front of him in the form of a boy; just as solid as the world around him, if the lingering pain on his collarbone was anything to go by.

His mop of white hair and distinctively coloured eyes certainly fit with the unpredictable nature of his words and behavior, but Rikiga knew that he would've been special to him even without the strange features. This was Karan's son, after all. It was only natural that he wanted to be liked by the child of a woman he had respected (and loved) so much, even if the feelings hadn't been reciprocated.

Their beginning may have been terrible, but the repercussions weren't long lasting. Though his anger may be powerful, Shion was above all forgiving and patient, his nature lending him towards naturally assuming the best of people, regardless of appearance or status. Just having a short conversation with the gentle boy was refreshing after so long living in the West block, surrounded by the kind of people he knew full well he belonged with. The teenager always addressed him politely, spoke his manners so genuinely that it was impossible for the man not to smile and nod in return, his way of speaking always slipping back to how it used to be, all those years ago before No.6 became it's current monstrous self.

But sometimes, he would get the feeling that Shion's attitude might be causing him just as much anguish as it did happiness; this wasn't the tainted fortress of No.6, but it was West Block. Not a place for soft things, not a place for soft people, and definitely not a place for boys like Shion - who would be considered especially kind even amongst the generally polite and docile population of the city.

Rikiga didn't have much that he prided himself on, but he had never doubted his own self perception. He wasn't delusional; he knew he was no different to the people he feared would hurt Shion, knew that he had no right to play at being the responsible adult figure. As much as the thoughts made him want to cringe away and reach for the booze to silence them, he was aware he had to face the facts: If Shion wasn't Karan's son, there would have been nothing to deter him from asking both boys the same question. The question which had prompted Shion to toss himself across the table in disgust and rage and demand he apologise immediately.

So no. He couldn't provide sound moral guidance or set an example, had no claim to authority or respect. He had thrown his rights to those away along with his principles and convictions, but this was where Shion truly shone to him - he didn't deserve those things, but Shion offered them to him anyway. Without inferring that he should be grateful to be considered anything other than a drunkard, without expecting anything more from him in return. It felt nice - nostalgic and peaceful.

The homely feel that his hidden office took on when the boy came around was invigorating. He'd offered him some extra cash in exchange for his help organizing and cleaning up, and Shion had happily agreed. Rikiga knew he would be pleased with any opportunity to make himself useful, and earning a bit more was always a bonus. The kid was a hard worker too. Not that it mattered; he wouldn't actually go through with such a piteous action (not that Shion would understand or accept it anyway) but he felt he wouldn't mind paying just for the wonderful company. Not for anything else - just his presence.

After all, what was the difference? He spent money every week, every few days even, for the company of prostitutes. Why? Enjoyment. To stave off loneliness, to satiate the need for social interaction that didn't carry the constant threat of attack. He drank to forget and hired women to feel, just like his deplorable clients.

But Shion ticked all those boxes without leaving the foul aftertaste of shady dealings. Chatting lightly with him as the boy fluttered around the room dusting and stacking, watching his completely open facial expressions as he spoke of his time in No.6 and his mothers bakery, hearing the sincerity in his voice as he expressed how happy he was to be here despite the hardships - these things all supplied more pleasure and satisfaction for him than any amount of booze and women had been able to in years. Created memories that he didn't want to forget and left behind a feeling of hope, a dreamy sense that maybe things weren't so bad, that maybe they could even get better. A very welcome effect, especially when compared to the headache left by an evening of getting hammered and paying escorts.

There had been one occasion when a business associate (to put it mildly) had turned up for their meeting earlier than planned, causing him to pass by Shion as the boy was leaving for home. Of course, Rikiga only became aware of this when the associate in question came through his door and greeted him with questions he'd rather not have to hear or answer.

Who was that one? Was he one of his? How old was he? Was he up for rent, or perhaps even exclusive ownership? How much? To hear someone speak about a boy he considered closer to a son than a friend in that fashion was sickening. Repulsive. It felt like being forced to face exactly which business he was in head on, having the spotlight shone directly onto his sins.

He knew Shion was attractive - a face just as beautiful as his mother's - and he knew that his hair, eyes, and intriguing scar would only add to his appeal. He knew his polite and respectful behavior was sought after, and that his air of borderline _innocence_ would have clients clambering over each other to be the first to order a night with him. He knew these things, he understood this business, yet somehow he just couldn't justify what this man was saying with his regular reasoning. He had no right. He had no right to look at Shion in that way, to speak about him like that.

He couldn't help but sympathize with Shion's reaction after he'd asked Nezumi to join his business. Even if it was for money, which he knew was an all important necessity in this world, for a brief moment he understood why Shion didn't consider it any excuse for such behavior.

He'd wondered if Eve and the ex-Elite had any trouble supporting themselves, but given the actor's popularity and Shion's job washing dogs, he supposed not. He'd made it clear to Shion that he was always welcome to come stay with him anyway, and that he was always happy to help if needed. May as well use his money and luxury for good, even if it was earned through questionable means.

Now here he was, sitting at his desk while trying to read through some of the requests he'd been given, but he'd scanned over the same sentence several times now and it just wouldn't stick. Shion was here for his evening job, humming gently to himself as he worked, the theme of a cheerful song which he said his mother used to sing quietly while cooking.

Shion's flowery voice flowed through the room and dislodged any unpleasant thoughts before they could take root, the meaning of the words on the page simply becoming incomprehensible: 'Clean with no scars'? 'Quiet, young, tan'? What were these men thinking? Trying to order a girl like a meal at a restaurant. How deplorable. Exactly what he expected of the disgusting No.6 officials - just as immoral as the unholy demonic wreck of a city they worked for.

( _And he was their waiter, serving them whichever dish they desired on a silver platter._ )

It was a lost cause for now, so he resigned himself to dealing with the work later. Shion had interrupted his tune abruptly with a sneeze, which he proceeded to blame on the copious amounts of dog and rat fur which always seemed to be stuck to his clothing. Rikiga grumbled a response about how it seemed those brats might actually morph into their namesakes someday, no real annoyance behind his words; He was rewarded with bubbly laughter and a warm, glowing smile, and for a moment he swore he could feel it melting the gloom and dirt straight off his soul.

Maybe he should get a bigger place. One with a few more rooms to clean.

**Author's Note:**

> wooooooooooooooo //


End file.
